Missing

“I need to be there,” you always said,
and there was never here—in the now,
in whatever space you found yourself standing in.

Your future always stole from your present,
and so we were left with your past.
You were without peripherals,
suffering from hyperopia.

We were never tall enough,
or loud enough,
or just enough.
We reached for you,
our arms like trees fighting for sunlight,
but you were a vapor with a cell
that imprisoned you,
a mist with a career that made you feel
like you had it all,
even as it took everything you had.

You showed up everywhere else,
save your own life,
with the lives you created.

You were a stranger—
the house fairy,
the food fairy,
the birthday present fairy.
You made things happen
behind the scenes;
you were the part of the movie
we never saw.